Too Far
by awesomeasusual
Summary: Maka was too far in, too far gone, and too far in love with Soul "Eater" Evans.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **Maka was too far in, too far gone, and too far in love with Soul "Eater" Evans.

* * *

What am I doing?

Why am I watching him like some kind of creepy stalker?

_Because I am a creepy stalker, _the little voice in my head says.

I shake my head, like a dog trying to shake off water, my pigtails slapping me in the face.

_This is crossing about 50 billion lines in the Meister/Weapon relationship_.

This is my life now.

Stalking Soul and his hot girlfriend.

Ayla.

The Demon Whip.

They met three months ago at a Weapon-Only International Training. She had planned on transferring to Shibusen anyway. Meeting Soul just solidified the decision. Soul told me was terrified at the prospect of that girl moving half way across the world, practically just for him. He didn't think he was worth it. I couldn't bring myself to correct him. It wasn't my place anymore. He even looked at me like he was waiting for me to hit him, to tell him off for being stupid. But I wasn't up for the role of supportive pseudo-girlfriend. Now there they were, chatting away, unaware that each exchange of words brought a sledge hammer into my heart.

Ugh. Melodrama. I am becoming my father.

I lifted my head from the locker and let it fall back onto the metal, creating a soft _bang_. The sound slowed my heart, the rhythm of my head gently colliding with the locker was soothing. _Soul is going to happy now_, I think to myself. _That's good. He'll have someone else to ride his motorcycle with, to watch football and talk about music and play basketball all freaking day_… The tempo of my head banging increased. I needed to drown out my own thoughts. I tried to keep my brain from giving me a play by play of all of our times together. I banged my head a little harder, the metallic this ringing out in the hallway. I barely noticed.

Soul and I needed go back to being weapon and partner only. I wasn't sure how to do that. Were Soul and I ever just weapon and partner? Since the beginning he was so much more than that.

When I first entered Shibusen, I was 12 and adamant about hating men. I hated them _all_. They were worse than dogs (they both might smell and roll around in their own filth but at least dogs are loyal). I let my father's betrayal taint my view of men. I was determined never to get hurt again, and never as hurt as my mother was.

But then I met Soul.

He proved that he was different time and time again.

I have been stabbed, beaten, bruised, flung across rooms, blown up, dropped seven stories, and none of that, _nothing_ hurt worse than watching Soul smile at the Demon Whip. The kind of smile where the corners of his eyes crinkle and all of his shiny shark teeth are visible and now he's throwing his head back, laughing and—

Which reminds me. I am being creepy. I know I am. Watching them go out on their dates is not healthy. I can't help it. I want to know why her. Although I have a feeling it was her 34Cs that contributed….

Ugh. No. I can't afford to be catty. It's not her fault. She's actually a very sweet girl, beautiful of course, definitely up to Soul's standards. She's tall, with jet black hair and dark eyes, she's even tempered, tutors Soul Studies after class, patient and kind.

Basically, the complete opposite of me.

_Our first kishin soul, after which he yelled at me for recklessly throwing him aside when the kishin got too close…_

bang

_The first time we tried soul resonance, where I got glimpses of his soul, mottled layerd of twisted and sarcastic, with thin gauzy layers of caring underneath…_

Bang

_Finally holding the resonance, deeply connecting and holding on to the feeling, the electrifying crackle on my soul, thrilling and frightening._

BANG

_Soul dragging me out to play basketball with our friends, when all I wanted to do was read_

**BANG**

_Soul holding up the vintage record I bought him for his birthday, located after months of extensive research. His eyes got shiny, shark grin wide. He hugged me, so tight, and whispered "thank you" in my ear, his hot breath ghosting over my face and neck. If he noticed me shiver, he didn't comment on it. _

_**BANG**_

"—AKA! Stop!"

I blinked. Soul stood in front of me. His hands were on my shoulders. I guess he had tried to call my attention and took to shaking me when saying my name wouldn't work. The dark shadows under his red eyes called out to me, asking me to touch them and smooth them out with my fingertips. When I didn't respond (I couldn't; I was too busy trying not to touch him) he tightened his grip on my shoulders.

Relief flooded my body. It was the least tense I had felt all month. He hadn't touched me, or held my hand at all, since he started dating the Demon Whip (_Ayla_, I reminded myself. _Her name is Ayla_). My shoulders were completely dropped from their previous position, practically near my ears. I had been carrying them high for three months. The only time he touched me what when he was in scythe form. Somehow, it wasn't the same.

Soul gave me another shake, one I felt this time. "Oi, bookworm. Snap out of it. You're scaring the kids." He jerked his head towards a group of NOT students clumped together tightly, terror on their small faces. I guess they weren't used to seeing someone snap. He let his hands drop, and put them into his pockets. At the loss of the physical contact, the sorrow rushed back.

It felt wrong.

I missed him.

I didn't bother covering up my misery. I'd let it hang on the corners of my mouth.

Soul smirked. "Stop making that face. It'll get stuck like that, jeez." That smirk. The half smile that haunted. The familiarity broke me, melted my frozen blood.

"I'm fine, Soul."

Yeah? Last time you looked like that was when your mom didn't send you a post card for six months."

I flinched.

He must have noticed because he put a hand on my arm.

I tightened the grip on my book.

There was his touch again. So rare now, so precious. Three months ago, there was a point where we would both sleep on the couch, the nightmares of the Kishin Asura, and Crona invading our dreams and making our nights hell. We would meet there almost every night, where his screams broke the silence of the night or my sobbing created a horrifying atmosphere. But since the demon whip—ah _Ayla_- It felt wrong and we haven't tried it since.

"Sorry. She hasn't, huh? Sent you anything?"

My Mama hadn't sent me a postcard in 6 months. Three months ago, I would have been fine; I had Soul.

Now I didn't have either.

"No it's not that. I'm fine seriously." I shrugged his hand off my shoulder. His warmth was like an addictive substance. It was better go to cold turkey than to give in to momentary pleasure.

I can't stand how much I need him! I was never like this before. What gave him the rights to come into my life and destroy my way of thinking, my lifestyle. How could he make me trust him, fall in love with him, leave me, and then leave me alive?

It wasn't fair.

It would have been easier to find a female partner. Or a guy who cheated, that way my expectations would have been grounded. Or if I had been born a weapon.

I tried to date, I really did. Last month, I went out with Harvar. He was severe, a hard worker, and stickler for rules. We had that much in common, but we were so different. I'll be honest: I'm a total hot-head, ruled by my emotions. Impulsive. Harvar obeyed the rules without fault, and obeyed authority unquestionably.

I remember in Baba Yaga's Castle, when he was willing to end Kim's life while she was possessed. Harvar told me he felt like it was a mistake to not end it there, especially now that we all know she's a witch.

I didn't go out with him again after that.

It was all Soul's fault, that bastard.

He had to make me more flexible, make be find a balance between life and books.

Soul had changed me, irrevocably.

I shook off his hand, harder this time. He drew back quickly, but then smirked and poked me.

"Maka, come on. Don't be so emo! Why don't you come with us? We're going to play ball." He gestured behind himself. Ayla stood in the middle of the hallway, bouncing a basketball. She looked up at the word 'basketball." She stopped bouncing the ball, balanced it on her hip, and gave us a friendly wave.

I wanted to hate her.

It would have been easier it she was the jealous type, if she had given Soul an ultimatum: _Me or Maka._ She didn't even care that we lived together! She was a weapon; she understood the attachment between a meister and a weapon.

I waved back, trying to summon enthusiasm.

I didn't work.

"Yo," Soul said. "If you stay at home and read too much, you'll grow mushrooms out of your head."

He almost looked hopeful. Was he _looking_ for a chop?

Did I really look that pitiful?

"I'm fine, Soul. I have a ton of stuff to do back in the apartment. Cleaning, studying, cooking. You know normal productive stuff. I might even pop in a documentary, to get really wild, you know." I was babbling. The blood rushed to the surface of my skin. The misery flooded my face.

He stared at me.

"Why are you crying?"

I touched my cheek. My hand came away wet.

I rubbed my face with my forearm. "Haha. No, I just have a something in my eye, like a branch. Or a tree."

It wasn't fair.

"Maka, come on? Come play basketball with us-"

I never asked him to come into my life.

"I'm going to go ok? I'll see you at home." I turned on my heel and ran.

I could feel myself burn.

* * *

**A/N:**

Spot the _Easy A _quote!

Something short and emo and unedited because this site is confusing.

Planning a second chapter, from Soul's POV, so stick around for that.

Love and/or constructive criticism welcome.


	2. Far Gone

**Too Far Chapter 2: Far Gone**

A/N: Continuing from where we left off, from Soul's perspective this time. Love and/or constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: Do I really have to do this every time I post something? Do not own. Obvs. Jeez.

* * *

I watched her run until she disappeared from sight, her pigtails bobbed with each rapid step. I wasn't going after her. That would just result in a fight. I wanted to avoid that.

No, I didn't. I wanted to fight. I wanted her to yell at me, call me moron, dumbass, jerk. I wanted to call her a fat-ankled tiny tits who wouldn't know a good time if it bite her on the ass. I wanted her to bash my skull in with her thick-ass books and make me bleed.

I swear, all these years together as made me a fucking masochist.

I actually missed her stupid chops.

But we hadn't fought in three months. She hadn't looked at me in the same amount of time. We rarely spoke. I wasn't sure what was going on.

Ayla wouldn't fight me. She was too cool for that stuff.

We met at the International Weapon Training for Shibusen's most prominent teen weapons. There were hundreds of people. They had us wear name tags and go to ice cream socials when we weren't trying to maim each other during individual fight training. It was way uncool. The second day in, Ayla and I were matched to fight and she lay my ass out in six point oh four seconds. We hung out every day afterwards. She told me she was interested in transferring to Shibusen the fifth day. We kissed on the seventh day. We sat next to each other on the flight to Nevada the eleventh day, the last. It's weird to say but it freaked me out when Ayla told me that I (Me. Soul Eater, cool man extraordinaire) was one of her reasons for making the huge move out to Shibusen. It was uncool of me to freak, but it was just one in a long line of awesome and surprising things that Ayla has come up with.

Ayla's Ukrainian. A Demon Whip. She liked basketball, she had dark hair, was taller than 5 feet, and easy going. She wasn't too into partying and, sure, she liked weird Swedish rap music, but it was better than that electronic crap certain roommates/best friends liked so much.

Former best friends, I guess.

Ayla never hit me, not even if I did something stupid. She was calm, liked sports, and was whip smart.

Heh heh heh. She always laughed at that joke. All my jokes, in fact. She thought I was _charming_

But.

There was something off.

I wasn't sure what it was.

We played basketball and that was cool.

We went to weapon classes together and that was cool.

We held hands and that was cool.

We made out and that was even cooler.

But when I looked at her, eyes level to mine, and it wasn't the same.

I wasn't even sure what I was comparing her to! It was uncool of me, to be thinking like that, but I couldn't help it. There was an emptiness in the back of my mind.

Like the emptiness in my apartment.

For the last three months, was like Maka had frozen up. She wouldn't hang out with me. We never sat together during classes. She wouldn't sit on the couch next to me. When we were in the living room at the same time, she'd leave as fast as she could, telling me she had homework or a special meister project (which was bullshit because those didn't exist. Black Star told me, like he told me how he gots out of every assignment he'd ever gotten at Shibusen). She'd only hold my hand when we resonated, and as soon as that was done she'd let go. I was starting to relish those times when we were forced to hold hands during training. I would tightened my grip around her hand, or I'd try to distract her by babbling about missions we'd gone on or the one's we were planning to go on. One time I tried to make her relax by stroking the back of her hand with my thumb. That just seemed to freak her out more. She tore her hand away from mine and glared at me. I thought I might get lucky that time; I waited for her to hit me with the book she's always got stashed in her clothes.

The blow never came. Sometimes I could still feel her hand in mine, long after class was over. For a while, I'd feel normal.

Then Ayla would take my hand after training, and the "off" feeling would return.

I didn't understand.

Uncool.

"Helloooooo? Soul?"

Ayla looked at me curiously.

Crap. I must have been staring at nothing for a while.

"Soul," she repeated. "I asked If Maka was ok." Ah. Missed that.

"Uh… yeah. I guess?"

She raised her eyebrow.

"What?" I said, less patiently than I should have. I was getting tired of guessing.

Ayla shrugged. "I don't know. She didn't look too happy."

"Who the fuck knows? She's been like that ever since we came back."

She pursed her lips, thinking. I was used to silence now that Maka was closed off to me (probably forever) but after what just happened I was about to lose it.

"What?" I asked, exasperated. She just shrugged again.

"We better go. Kilik's waiting for us." She turned and walked quickly down the hall, the same direction Maka had gone.

What was with all the women in my life?! Were they all secretly plotting to bring my black blood to a boiling point?

I didn't bother following Ayla. I waited for her footsteps to fade before I dragging myself the opposite way, towards the parking lot where my bike was.

My scar was starting to ache.

Great.

I put my hand to my chest and rubbed the old tissue, walking slower. The shuffling sound of my sneakers and the occasional sharp intake of breath I took from the stinging scar were the only sounds echoing in the long hallway. Everyone had already gone home.

My scar hurting had been happening more frequently, ever since I had come back from the international weapon training. It had only hurt once before, when Maka and I were tracking Crona. But for the past three months it had been sore, like an overworked muscle. It was worse at nights, when the nightmares came and I could do nothing to stave off the terror but shred my pillow with my teeth. I had gone through about nine pillows in the past three months. Three months ago, I was able to go to the living room and I only had to wait a couple minutes before Maka stumbled out of her room and onto the couch. She knew somehow. She'd bring her fluffy pink blanket and toss it over us both. If she got to the living room first, she'd sleep in my spot on the couch. Those times, when her screaming woke me before my own, I'd try to beat her there so I could save my spot. She'd curl up on the couch beside me. I'd try to sleep sitting normally. During the night we'd melt into each other, sleep with our arms around each other. The first one to wake up was the first one to untangled themselves from the blankets and limbs was the first to make breakfast. It was our unspoken agreement to never wake up at the same time. We avoided some serious awkwardness that way. It was almost like a game. Who could pretend to sleep the longest and avoid cooking without making it look like we wanted to stay in the warm embrace.

I still had nightmares. That's something Ayla didn't get. She didn't understand why I went days without sleeping. Why the dark circles under my eyes became permanent. Why I kept making stupid mistakes during weapon training. I could see Maka hesitating when I came home bandaged and bruised. I saw her standing in the hallway that led to our bedrooms, waiting for something. I was sure she wanted to ask what happened, yell at me for being careless, tell me that I'm supposed to be the careful one in battle and she's supposed to be the reckless one in a fight, like she always did.

Fuck.

I missed her.

Maka was my comfort.

When my parents stopped calling me.

When Wes berated me for abandoning the Evans name.

When we almost lost our lives to Crona and Asura.

Ever since we were 11 and I showed her on the piano what kind of guy I was and she said she liked it she had been the little warmth after the cold.

All up until three months ago….

Wait.

Three months ago.

Before I left for the International Weapon training everything had been fine. We trained together, ate together, watched stupid reality televisions shows together.

But when I came back everything was different...

There was a pattern.

Three months.

The weapon training.

Coming back with Ayla…..

I stopped short, right in the middle of the hallway.

Damn.

For a cool guy I'm pretty stupid.

Me and Maka had a good rhythm going before. Obviously the international weapon training threw us off! Whatever bullshit tactics I learned there must not have been sitting with Maka too well, but the idiot didn't know how to tell me. She knew I was excited to learn more complex techniques and didn't want to disappoint me with the news that we actually sucked now. Or that I sucked. Or whatever, I didn't care I had it figured out.

I KNEW we weren't too far gone into the weirdness; we would be able to fix our combined techniques. We could fix our friendship. I could go back to doing things they way they were before and everything would be alright.

I couldn't wait to tell Maka.

I sprinted the rest of the way down the hall, my hand still on my chest.


End file.
